


jam for all

by deniigiq



Series: Lighter Fluid Verse [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Jam, Protectiveness, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Trust exercises, wade avoiding the scourge of emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 16:00:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21182123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deniigiq/pseuds/deniigiq
Summary: Red accepted the half-barrel of berries in shock, awe, and general amazement at Wade’s hunting prowess.“What the fuck do I do with all this?” he asked.(Right afterwho do you pray for, Matt gives the Caps Residence a gift. Sam Wilson hounds Wade for the meaning of it.)





	jam for all

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello hello  
I found this scene in my drafts and just had to finish it. I love Sam and Wade's Wilson-war.
> 
> This comes right after **who do you pray for** in the DFV, but I don't you think have to read that to get this one.

Red had a thing for blackberries this week and Wade was going to exploit the fuck out of that shit.

The kid told him that this was unfair and unhealthy and that no human could consume that many blackberries and emerge on the other side unharmed.

Wade told him that he’d appreciate it if he shut his yap.

No spoilsports today. Only majesty.

Red accepted the half-barrel of berries in shock, awe, and general amazement at Wade’s hunting prowess.

“What the fuck do I do with all this?” he asked, still in shock, awe, and general amazement, when the berries and their vessel have been schlepped to the kitchen.

“Jam,” the kid said.

“Eat them,” Wade explained further.

Red blinked at the space between them and pressed a couple of knuckles to his nose, puzzled.

Adorable.

Look how pleased he was. So baffled to be the recipient of such adoration.

“Maybe?” he asked the barrel.

“Well,” Wade announced, “Since I have so kindly provided the devil with a little _snack_, what can the devil do for me, eh?”

He had Red’s nervous attention.

“You got a job?” he asked.

Yes.

“Is it a big one?”

Yes, yes. Good boy, you’re doing great.

“Does it…involve explosives?” Red asked, wincing and cringing back towards the barrel.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Give this man a prize! Oh, wait! He already has one!

“Wade, we need to talk.”

Aha!

The nemesis Wilson. No, sir, we are going the opposite direction of talk. We are going to _run_.

“Come on, man, do we really gotta do this today?”

Yes.

This was their new deal. Every time the Nemesis Wilson took a step forward, waving around a threat to have feelings out in the open air with zero alcohol to lubricate that particular journey to hell, it was Wade’s job to turn on his heel and evade the fuck out of him.

At first, the guy’s presence had made Wade a little angry. What with him getting his sticky mitts all over Red and making him six types of uncertain in the face of the relationship which Wade had delicately cultivated with the guy over the last two years.

Red trusted Wade, now.

And by god, Wade was not letting Wilson ruin all the work it had taken for them to get to this point.

“Wade, man. For real. I just wanna talk,” Wilson the Enemy said.

He always just wanted to talk, this guy.

Lies.

Lies, lies, lies. Get bent, pretty boy.

“Wade. I just—listen, man. Your horned buddy left like, six jars of jam on our doorstop the other day. I just wanted to make sure he’s okay.”

Redthew, we have _talked_ about this.

The Wilson cannot be trusted. Stop wanting to please him. He just pretends to be invested in you and your partner’s wellbeing. It is only pretending.

“He’s never left anything before,” Wilson continued, fucking following Wade like he hadn’t gotten the goddamn memo the first twenty times they’d played this game. “I wanted to make sure he didn’t feel like he owed us anything for all the shit that went down with Nelson back there. That wasn’t his fault at all, but he seems like he’s decided it is, so—”

You fool. You absolute fool.

Red was a layered human being, yes. But he was also very predictable once you started cataloguing shit.

If something bad—anything bad--happened, it was Red’s fault and his business. That was how Red’s child-abused brain worked. He’d figured out way young that someone would blame him for anything that went wrong regardless of where he was in relation to it, and so had decided to beat those fuckers to the punch.

After all, they can’t make you sorry if you’re there before they are.

Psych, bitches. What you gonna do now, huh?

“Wade. Dude. Come on. I know he talks to you about this shit.”

He didn’t.

Wade was a shelter for Red. A violent bus stop of sorts, where Red could come sit and think his thoughts for a little while without feeling a push in any particular direction.

Their relationship was at its most solid when neither of them were speaking.

That’s how they talked, Wilson.

“_Wade_.”

“Say my name one more time,” Wade threatened, stopping in his pace to turn halfway back and loom.

Wilson was stupid and undaunted.

“Tell me he’s okay or he’s not okay and I’ll fuck off,” Sam said.

Wade thought not.

“He ain’t your kid,” he pointed out. “He ain’t your teammate. He ain’t your client. He ain’t your business, Falcon. Stay in your lane.”

He turned back around and carried on with his own business: finding a golden bullet. It was a lot harder than finding a silver one.

“_Wade_,” he heard over his shoulder.

UGH. Wilsons.

“For fuck’s sake, he just _likes_ you Wilson, stop making it harder than it has to be,” Wade finally snapped.

“I can’t be liked this quickly, have you seen my life? Have you met your people?”

Wade actually paused. Then turned back.

Wilson stopped and folded his arms over his chest, still a good two meters away. He set his jaw defiantly.

Oho.

Now, this could be fun.

“Be careful there, big guy,” Wade said. “Keep talking like that and _I_ might start to like you next.”

Wilson grimaced and flinched and shivered, then caught himself and remembered to stabilize his chin.

“I’m cool with that,” he said. “I’m beyond cool with that. That has been the point of the last couple months, you know.”

Wade couldn’t hold back the grin.

“Well if that’s the case,” he said, “Then might I ask if you’re doing anything useful at the minute?”

Sam Wilson flicked his eyes around while he thought through that. Wade waited. It was cool. He had six hours to find this damn bullet and a very convenient pot of jam back home to re-hide it in when the monumental occasion arose.

“Maybe,” Wilson said suspiciously. “It depends. Why? Who are you maiming?”

“A werewolf,” Wade said. “Big one. Mountain-sized. Goes by the name of Chaffin.”

“Isn’t that—JB’s mentioned him before,” Wilson said. “Said it’d be better to buy ammo from a dead horse.”

“Precisely,” Wade said. “Except, unfortunately, when your dead horse runs out of C4, you’re forced to deal with him. Which I am presently regretting but amending. So. Are you busy or no?”

“Are you hunting down C4?” Wilson asked.

“Nah, man. I already got my goddamn explosives. Ended up buyin’ ‘em online like everyone else in this damn city—fool me once and all that. No. I’m on a mission for city pest control. You in or you out?”

Wilson side-eyed him.

“I think I’m gonna pass on this one,” he said.

Wade shrugged.

“Alright, suit yourself,” he said.

He got a couple yards forward when he heard Wilson call out after him,

“Werewolves aren’t real, Wade.”

Wade laughed.

So close. So, so close.


End file.
